Jesse Grace

It was a hard week to be away. My sister gave birth to her third daughter on Tuesday—Jesse Grace. There I was, at a party at the Marine house behind the US embassy, drinking white wine and chatting with friends when my cell rang. How unbelievably different our lives have become. It’s moments such as these that I really question my decision to continue living so far away from my family, and if the void it creates can be filled by doing challenging work or living in beautiful and complicated countries. And maybe I’m cracking my own case…that for the simple fact that my life IS so different from my sister’s—no partner, no stability, no children…I continue to choose a path that doesn’t allow me to be even remotely settled or sedentary. I persist in the belief that there must be something more, something superior to my current reality, something more gratifying elsewhere that will slowly begin to fill that emptiness, eliminate that doubt. That as long as I’m doing work that drives me to regularly step outside my boundaries of comfort and work with populations that have greater needs than anything I will ever experience in my privileged life, it’s okay that I’m alone. It’s okay that I feel slightly disconnected from my family. It’s ok to change my address every two years. It’s okay to not know what’s next.

Some old colleagues from the Population Council were in Kigali this week for a UN workshop. It was such a wonderful treat to see them and get caught up. I had forgotten how wonderful that organization is, and how important and inspiring their work. Of course, within two days, Judith in all her amazingness had passed my email around to half the workshop, connecting me to projects and work consulting on adolescent girls programs. It made me question my decision to leave New York…wondering how different my life would have been if I had worked through some of the unhappiness and anxiety I felt there…where I would be if I had stayed at the Council and gone to Columbia part time and built a career for myself. Why do I allow my mind to go to these places? I don’t know. It’s a totally futile exercise and is only contributing to my mental instability…as if I need the additional fuel.

And what is it I’m searching for exactly? I’m not entirely clear. I’m pretty sure it’s nothing quite as simple as a light bulb going off in my head and begging me to stay put. Maybe I’m not meant to settle in or settle down anywhere. Perhaps I haven’t met the right person or the right job to convince me to do so. Maybe I never will. But I have to believe that it’s all part of my path that I’m intended to take. That my life wasn’t meant to turn out any other way.

I also don’t find it ironic that I finally received the go-ahead from my Country Director to stick around through December on the weekend of the 4th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Last year I had just arrived in Ethiopia. Now here I am in Rwanda. And the longer I’m away, the more I’m convinced that I am not ready to walk away from that city just yet. It feels like home in ways no other place has felt in years. There’s so much work I want to accomplish there. So many more things I need to experience and see and comprehend. It saddened me to be so far away from New Orleans on a weekend that stresses the resiliency of such a troubled yet proud community; remembering and paying respect to the tragedies of the storm; bringing people together to share in the struggles that continue. Reminding us that there is no strength in separation. That there is much work to be done. Ok, so good. Maybe I did answer that question about New York after all.

So, here I am. A new auntie. A semi-temporary, semi-permanent resident of Rwanda. A soon-to-be 31 year old single woman who is kind of employed. Not too shabby I guess. The journey continues…